


The Bet (+ art)

by chamyl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has Fun (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Sex, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Hand & Finger Kink, Happy Sex, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love, M/M, Making Love, Masturbation, NSFW Art, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Penis In Vagina Sex, Playful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Requited Love, Smut, Strap-Ons, Switch Aziraphale (Good Omens), Switch Crowley (Good Omens), Tenderness, Wing Kink, Zine, i love that this is a tag, switching efforts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24984307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamyl/pseuds/chamyl
Summary: He’d tasted Aziraphale’s lips – red wine and laughter. He’d straddled him, and Aziraphale had told him he wasn’t going to win, not this time. Even called him a ‘foul tempter’, which Crowley had confirmed by licking along the angel’s bottom lip and grinding down against his body, feeling Aziraphale’s growing interest through however many layers of clothing.“Make a bet of it?” The demon had asked.💘Crowley and Aziraphale take turns trying to make the other come first and have a lot of fun with this little game of theirs.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 401
Collections: They're Switches Bitches! Zine





	The Bet (+ art)

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for the [Switches Bitches zine](https://switchesbitches.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> You guys, this is the first work that I originally wrote for a zine I'm allowed to post, I'm so excited! Writing for zines is wonderful but I really miss the interaction I get on AO3, I'm ngl.
> 
> This piece features wonderful art by Kyra, who was incredibly easy and fun to work with, and I'm so grateful she wanted to collab with me, it was a BLAST. Thank you Kyra! 💖💖💖
> 
> 💥 BEWARE, NSFW ILLUSTRATIONS AHEAD 💥

It takes Crowley exactly thirty seconds to realise he’s miscalculated _big time_.

Aziraphale has let his head tilt back, exposing the pale, tender column of his neck. His reddened lips are parted, swollen from being lovingly kissed over and over. His chest heaves with every quick breath – round, soft hills of milky skin, stiff pink nipples, sparse white-gold hair. He has let his legs fall open, looking for all the world like the very picture of indulgence, and Crowley can’t quite help the wide smile on his face when he sees how much his lover is enjoying himself.

The dildo sinks easily into the angel’s body, and Crowley swallows hard as he begins rolling his hips. The straps of the harness are tight around his thighs and hips, letting him angle and move the toy as if it were part of his own body. Which it isn’t – because he made the very conscious choice of momentarily getting rid of his cock in favour of soft, pink folds.

Because – and here’s the kicker – he’s been foolish enough to believe that this strategy would give him the advantage.

How wrong he was. How completely, utterly wrong. The truth is that, without the harsh clench of Aziraphale’s body around his cock to distract him, he can focus entirely on every little detail the angel below him has to offer. And _by Satan_ is it a bountiful offer.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale sighs, shifting underneath him, every minute movement punctuated by lovely little moans – and Crowley’s a goner. He will give Aziraphale anything he’ll ask for, provide anything he might desire. The demon’s hands close tightly around his lover’s thighs as he pulls back and pushes back in, slow and deep, just as his angel likes.

He can feel himself, between his legs, warm and wet and aching to be touched.

Sure, maybe his idea backfired completely – but, in all honesty, he can’t really bring himself to regret it at all.

He licks his lips as he glances down at Aziraphale’s cock, untouched, twitching with every push of his hips, its head wet and glistening – he knows exactly how it’d taste if he could bend just enough to close his lips around it and suck him clean.

He’s distracted by this fantasy when Aziraphale makes a particularly loud noise. By the terms of their bet, the angel is supposed to be holding back, but instead he’s enjoying himself quite a lot, and oh – Crowley can’t even mind, he adores seeing Aziraphale finally allowing himself to fully experience all the pleasures these bodies can give.

When the angel’s antique clock goes off, Aziraphale shoots it a quick glare, then stops moving so that Crowley can slowly slide out of him.

“It appears to be my turn now,” the angel declares with a mischievous little smile on his face. He clears his throat, then raises an eyebrow and reaches out to gently tug at the strap on Crowley’s hip, “Could you take this off, please?”

It all started, as most of their ideas did, with one bottle of wine too many. Aziraphale had sat next to Crowley, his body warm and soft, his aura emanating pure love and contentment, and the demon had curled up against him like a snake on a warm branch in the sun.

He’d tasted Aziraphale’s lips – red wine and laughter. He’d straddled him, and Aziraphale had told him he wasn’t going to win, not this time. Even called him a ‘foul tempter’, which Crowley had confirmed by licking along the angel’s bottom lip and grinding down against his body, feeling Aziraphale’s growing _interest_ through however many layers of clothing.

“Make a bet of it?” The demon had asked.

And that’s how they’d ended up taking turns on each other, trying to make the other finish first.

Miracling one of Aziraphale’s old clocks to go off every few minutes had been short work – sobering up had been much more unpleasant.

Crowley slips out of the harness and glances at his lover. Aziraphale’s pink tongue darts out to lick at his lips, and his face colours the way it always does when there’s something he really wants and he’s about to ask for it. Whatever it is, Crowley is dying to give it to him.

“Perhaps,” the angel says at last, as he rests his hands on his own hips, on either side of his cock, “You would like to come sit here for a while, darling?”

The bastard. The total, utter bastard. He has to know what it does to Crowley when he makes obscene suggestions like this in that proper, posh voice of his. He also has to know Crowley loves him impossibly more when he shows off his naughtier side.

The demon nods, slowly climbing in his lover’s lap. He straddles the angel, positions himself just right, and shivers when the thick head of Aziraphale’s cock begins to press between his legs. He hesitates only a moment before lowering himself, taking the angel in one smooth slide.

“Fuck,” he growls out. Aziraphale’s cock is rock-hard and already throbbing inside his cunt and, because of the bet, Crowley is supposed to do his best not to come from it.

It’s okay. He can do this, each turn only lasts three minutes. What’s three minutes? It’s nothing. He just has to resist for three silly little minutes, not a second more.

When he begins moving, Aziraphale puts his hands on his thighs, runs them up and down his skin and all the way to hips, immediately encouraging him to go faster and harder. Cooing at him that he’s doing so well, and “Isn’t this nice? You feel so nice, darling – don’t stop, please, you’re being so good…”

Crowley shuts his eyes against the praise, as if he could keep himself from listening to it, as if it didn’t always awaken something inside of him, something primal and hungry and desperate for it.

He keeps moving over the angel, the drag of Aziraphale’s cock inside him making it hard to think straight – but when he opens his eyes again, a minute and a half later, he notices the angel seems just as lost as he is, his hips straining up to meet him, his breath coming in short, shallow pants.

Crowley sets his jaw and rolls his hips, determined to make Aziraphale come before him if it’s the last thing he does.

It seems like only a moment has passed when the sound of the clock interrupts his inner chant of _now, now, finish now, angel._ But it’s alright – for three minutes, he’s done as Aziraphale asked. Now it’s his turn to decide what they’re doing next, and he’ll make the most of it.

“Your time is up, angel,” he says in a liquid purr as he considers the angel underneath him, cheeks apple red and blonde-white curls in disarray. He’s gorgeous like this, flushed with pleasure, completely relaxed and comfortable, and Crowley can’t believe his luck – that he’d be allowed to see him like this. That he’d be the _cause_ of this.

He brings the angel’s hand to his mouth and tenderly kisses his knuckles. Angels can sense love, and Crowley is sure his love right now must feel like standing way too close to a campfire. He can feel it too, blazing hot and unrestrained in the air around them, as he parts his lips and takes Aziraphale’s fingers into his mouth.

The angel makes a sound that couldn’t but be described as a whimper, his cock giving a desperate twitch inside the demon, and Crowley realises – if there is a thing Aziraphale loves more than getting a manicure, it’s seeing his meticulously well-cared-for fingers slipping in and out of Crowley’s mouth.

He decides to take full advantage of this, very slowly rocking his hips as he suckles on Aziraphale’s fingertips. He locks eyes with the angel and runs his tongue between his plump, soft knuckles, gently nibbles at them until they’re all nice and wet.

Aziraphale’s breath starts to rush out of him in quick pants, hips desperately jerking up to try and bury himself deeper inside of Crowley.

The demon forgets altogether about their bet, completely focused on his lover, on the taste of his skin, on every little sound he can get out of him.

When the clock alerts them his turn is over he startles in surprise, and feels slightly disappointed – he was getting so into it, watching Aziraphale’s ever-growing desire as he showed him exactly how deep he could take his fingers, how skilled his serpent tongue could be.

However, Aziraphale now looks a complete wreck, and Crowley can’t help but being extremely satisfied with that. Indeed, the angel’s wet hand shakes a little when he takes it back from Crowley and taps lightly on the demon’s thigh.

“Up and at’em,” Aziraphale says, his voice trembling on the first word, “And please, if it’s all the same to you, could you revert to your usual?” He gestures vaguely towards Crowley’s crotch.

“Sure—one moment,” the demon stands up on his knees and, with one focused thought, switches back to a cock. Already hard, because, well – whatever equipment he has down there, he’s still very much aroused. He looks curiously back at the angel, wondering what he has planned for him.

Aziraphale flips over to lie on his stomach and glances at him over his shoulder. An invitation. Crowley can’t quite help himself, immediately slithering forward to press the entire length of his body to the angel’s, whining high in his throat as he feels so much hot skin flush to his own.

He needs more. He guides Aziraphale to rise on his hands and knees, so that again he can sink into the angel’s body. No strategies this time, not a thought about winning their little game - just skin to skin and raw desire guiding him as he buries himself to the hilt into his lover’s body.

But, just as he begins to thrust in earnest, Aziraphale stops him. His voice is ever so kind as he says, “Slow down, darling.”

Right, it’s Aziraphale’s turn, isn’t it? He kind of lost track.

Biting down hard into his bottom lip, Crowley complies, easing his rhythm.

Oh, but this is good too. He can still work both of them up to an orgasm like this, and if he just keeps moving at a steady pace he can—

“Even more, now,” Aziraphale asks again a moment later, still devastatingly gentle, and Crowley could swear he can hear a playful smile in his voice.

Even though he has to fight against his own body, even though he’s desperate to give it what he wants – the demon does as he’s asked. He slows down again. He’s almost not moving at all now, every fibre of his being screaming at him for it.

“Aziraphale…” he hisses out, straining to keep that ludicrously slow rhythm.

“You’re so good, my love,” the angel murmurs, and Crowley shakes, the words of praise ringing through him and making him unbearably hotter. He shut his eyes tight again, trying not to lose it right there and then. “Now stop altogether,” the angel asks.

Impossibly, somehow, Crowley does. His heart hammers inside his chest and his hands grip Aziraphale tight at the waist – his whole body strains under his will, but he succeeds. He stays perfectly still. Even though he feels like he’s going a little mad in the process.

He doesn’t even hear the clock. When Aziraphale squeezes his hand to get his attention, Crowley pulls out of him and away in a daze, absently looking at his cock throbbing and dribbling all over itself.

The angel stands up on his knees and glances back at him over his shoulder, waiting. What is he –

Oh, yes. Right. It’s Crowley’s turn now.

“Uh,” he says, eloquently. It’s his turn, so he has to choose what they do next. What should they do next? His brain is out of commission, his body drunk on pleasure and edged to the point of pain. All he wants is to have Aziraphale back, to feel him all over – his warmth, his softness, his voice making all the delicious little noises he lets out when he’s getting close to finishing.

He knows he’s wasting precious time, but his addled mind is working so very slowly through all the possible options.

Well – Aziraphale is way too far, for starters, so the demon crawls closer, pressing his nose into the hair at the back of his lover’s neck, breathing him in and humming in pleasure. If only there were more of Aziraphale to touch—

Oh, but there _can_ be.

“Spread your wings for me, angel,” he asks in a growl. Even in the state he’s in, he doesn’t miss the little whimper Aziraphale lets out as he materialises his gorgeous white wings on this plane of existence. Oh, _yes_. Aziraphale’s wings are _so_ nice and sensitive. Crowley opens his hands wide as he runs his fingers over the feathers, humming against the nape of the angel’s neck, and Aziraphale trembles with a full-body shiver. “And touch yourself for me, will you?”

Aziraphale swallows, closes his eyes, nods. Slowly, he reaches down, taking himself in hand, and begins pumping. Crowley tries very hard to focus – he knows all the sweet spots in Aziraphale’s wings, knows exactly where his fingers should press and where they should linger – but in no time at all he’s lost in it, rutting mindlessly against Aziraphale’s arse, muttering against his neck.

_Angel, angel, angel—_

The clock goes off once, but neither of them even thinks about stopping. Aziraphale moves his hand faster, turns back to smile at his lover, to tell him he’s so good, so beautiful, so _loved_ , and Crowley damn near sobs.

The clock goes off twice, and Crowley would kick it off the bedside table if he could tear himself away from his angel for a moment. But he can’t, Aziraphale is so close, breathing hard and fast, his wings quivering under his hands.

The clock goes off thrice and Crowley has just about had it. He snaps his fingers with the intent of blowing it to pieces, remembers at the last possible moment that it’s one of Aziraphale’s prized possessions, and changes his miracle to simply mute the blessed thing.

He immediately returns his hand to Aziraphale’s wing. He takes a deep breath, keeping himself on the brink of orgasm a little longer. His fingers search frantically for the little, soft coverts close to Aziraphale’s spine – the most sensitive part of an angel’s wings, a spot Crowley would never be allowed to touch if he weren’t the being Aziraphale trusted the most on this whole goddamned Earth and beyond.

And, when he carefully closes his fist around those delicate feathers and gently pulls, Aziraphale’s breath hitches in his throat. His whole body shakes in the demon’s arms, and the angel gasps Crowley’s name again and again as he spills all over his own stomach, onto his hand, on the bed underneath them in long spurts that leave him breathless. And then Crowley twists the feathers in his grip, making Aziraphale cry out, his orgasm continuing for a few seconds more, until the angel is completely wrung out, panting hard, struggling to keep himself upright.

He falls back into Crowley’s arms, bringing a hand behind him to grasp at Crowley’s cock and tug. That’s all Crowley needs. Finally he lets go, his orgasm punched out of him in a rush, his teeth sinking into the angel’s shoulder as he streaks white across Aziraphale’s lower back and arse.

He’s barely conscious of what happens afterwards. One of them must have cleaned up the mess, he supposes, because the next thing he knows they’re a tangle of limbs and lips and fast breaths huddled together under the covers.

“Fuck… angel, that was incredible,” he says, smoothing his hair away from of his face.

Aziraphale smiles weakly and murmurs in agreement, perfectly content to use Crowley’s shoulder as a pillow. “ _You_ were incredible, darling,” he sighs happily, a finger vaguely tracing circles on the demon’s chest.

“Don’t,” Crowley protests, but it’s a feeble attempt even to his own ears.

“I mean it, Crowley,” Aziraphale responds, in a tone that accepts no objection, “You held off for so long… and so many times, just to take care of me.”

“Nah, just a little bit towards end there. We both had three minutes each, remember?” Suddenly, Crowley’s struck by a suspicion and peers down at the naked angel opulently sprawled against his side. “Aziraphale, we _both_ had three minutes each, right?”

“Well…” the angel fidgets with the edge of the sheet that covers them. “My turn might have been slightly longer, once or twice. I wanted you to enjoy yourself a little more than usual, you always seem to think about me first, and I wanted—”

“Angel,” Crowley says, stopping Aziraphale’s hand’s nervous movement with his own, “I always enjoy myself, you don’t need to do anything more. And secondly,” in one fluid movement, Crowley has them flipped over, his eyes yellowing at the edges, his teeth sharpening into fangs, “You’re a bloody cheat, and I think I should teach you a lesson.”

Aziraphale giggles – that crystalline, happy sound that Crowley would recognise in a crowd of thousands.

“Oh no, poor me,” the angel says, wrapping his arms around the demon’s neck and licking his lips, “Whatever shall I do?”


End file.
